


Losing

by shannonymous



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alcoholic Tony Stark, Child Death, Heavy Angst, M/M, Sad!Steve, Sad!Tony, mpreg I suppose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4022371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannonymous/pseuds/shannonymous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony and Steve deal with the death of their son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing

**Author's Note:**

> Angst! again. Sorry!  
> recycling old stories

He spends damn near every hour of every day sitting on his baby's bed.

Calloused fingers wring the body of a teddy bear--the small, furry thing that soaked up years of tears, endured so many instances of abuse (falling off the bed, throwing across the room, getting stuck so helplessly under a bookcase??) and a lifetime of dependency.  

The bottle on the floor is three-quarters to its finish line. Tony’s legs are tucked under him as he pets the toy, fingers rubbing gently at patched ear that's becoming unstitched; he wonders if he can ever sew it back on a second time. 

  
Tears burn at his eyes when he hears Steve’s footsteps approaching on the unforgiving hardwood floors of the hallway and then pausing, hesitant. He glances over at the open door, catching sight of the other man lounging over the threshold.    
  
"What're you doing, sweetheart?” the man asks gently, but he knows the answer to his question. He comes over to kneel in front of the bed, knees cracking before touching soft carpet.    
  
"I was…" the other leads off. With only two words Steve knows Tony is drunk. "Thinking," he drops out at last, eyes fleeting over the other's face before looking away.  

  
The man knows Tony can't look at him-- can't bear to see their son in his face. The child was the same image, but years younger, a thousand times more innocent, and is now lying in a coffin Steve had to pick out himself, hands folded over his mouth as he nodded absently at the salesman.    
He shouldn't have had to. 

They had four years, but it took only a week after knowing that they were going to have a baby to fall in love with him, and decide to change their lives. The new house was old and Tony hated every corner of it from the basement to the attic; but it was home, and Steve used his free time making it their space. And perhaps if Steve had been watching… if he hadn't been so caught up for those few moments, they would have had more time.

 Tony watched it happen from his place on the porch; he had looked up from his tablet, curious at the lull in background noise, in time to see—

“ _Steve_!” he screamed, his voice foreign to him with a panic he had never known, “ _Steve, get him! Get the baby_!”

And Steve had turned, taking off on instinct but god, all that _blood_ \--

  
"What were you thinking about?" His hands come up to frame the other's face, brush his thumbs over his cheeks. "What are you thinking about, hmm? Jude?" Tony visibly flinches at the name. Steve’s tongue still burns when he says it. "Tell me." There's a slow smile on the other's lips, curving pretty and sloppily placed.    
  
"He was a good kid," the man says with a short laugh, hugging the bear to his chest, "He was so good- he… he loved me, you know? He loved me a-and… he was…" He shakes his head, laughter discordantly breaking his words, "But he was such a smartass, he'd- he'd sit in the lab with me while I was working and would… would get in my way- always in my way! Such a… such a fucking smartass- all the time, I couldn't… he'd stand there with his hand on his hip and…" 

Tony face breaks into a smile as he laughs hollowly. Steve’s heart breaks a little more.

 "He's always telling me ‘no’— I'd have to threaten him with you; or with no TV a-and… God, he was just such a… so fucking  _flippant_  with me—“ his face pulls tight for a moment.

 “Always so flippant. Just like you, such a brat… he'd… tell me ‘no’ but he was so cute! I felt so bad pushing him out of the lab because he'd look at me with these bi-big blue fuckin’ eyes,  _your_  eyes and say, 'Daddy, please?'"  Tony’s words snap at the end of a sob, his heart clenching underneath a metal cage in his chest. His finger closes tighter around the bear, his whole soul fleeting with every breath. 

"No- he- he was a fucking… a fucking brat, okay? He… such a smartass! Just a… just a fucking little… stubborn delinquent, just like you, ta-taking after you," He's crumbling from the foundations to the attic, collapsing in on himself; his whole body shakes. Tony’s grappling for an anchor, something to keep him rooted to the floor.  
  
"Tony…”   
  
"He was such a fucking brat," Tony manages out, smiling through tears. He's trying so hard. The laughter is screwed into his face, warm tears washing down his cheeks. He's all angles—sharp, clean edges. He tries to hold on but he slips.

 "My baby, he…" Everything inside of him breaks. "He w-was mine, Steve," Tony’s composure breaks as his whole body racks forward, waving in a soft heartbreak of decadence. "My baby loved me, Steve, he was—he’s so much like you, and they took him a-and oh god, our baby’s gone—“ his words are coming out incomprehensible as his mind rushes through, jumping off of sharp edges and tripping over the vowels. In some sort of desperation his fingers clutch onto the teddy bear. 

 "He loved me," he finally manages out just before he's completely engulfed in the bitter crush of metallic desolation.    
  
Steve wraps around him; his voice muffled as he presses his face to Tony’s hair, "I love you too, Tony," his arms tighten around a broken, trembling frame. "I love you too."


End file.
